


Dark on Me

by confinesofpersonalknowledge



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Fluff and Angst, Minor Injuries, Vague Descriptions of Blood, Vague description of surgery, it has a happy ending, selective use of dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 15:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16266623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confinesofpersonalknowledge/pseuds/confinesofpersonalknowledge
Summary: There's a screech, bright lights, and a momentary world full of pain and nothing else. And then Virgil loses consciousness.





	Dark on Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my tumblr works, I'm transferring them slowly here.

It starts like this - with an argument and an interrupted dinner, the slamming of a door and the one left alone. It’s dark, the point in the evening where you cannot confidently call it day or night - a broken moment of time that seems to stretch towards eternity. The argument escapes the door, muffled shouting having done nothing to stop even as the dinner table lost two members. 

It starts with the close-eyed frustration of a man who only wants peace, and the man who sees all.

And then:

A bright light. The screeching of tires on an open road, and the sudden feeling of hands on a back, pushing away from danger.

“VIRGIL!”

~*~

It continues with a sense of desperation, as dark as the blood that pools around them, with the stain of blood that splotches across a light blue shirt and a ruined cat-themed cardigan. Somewhere close by lies a purple hoodie, patches painstakingly hand stitched on.

With a halted conversation, and shaky fingers that call 9-1-1 and the guilt that churns in the guts of more than one person. With Logan, who’s mind whirls with thoughts of shock and blood loss and brain injuries. With Roman, who drops to his knees beside Patton, and tries to pull him away, to see the damage. With Patton, who screams himself hoarse when the paramedics pull Virgil away from him. 

Logan climbs into the ambulance, his mind settling into detached professionalism. Behind the ambulance comes a motorcycle carrying Patton, who refuses to relinquish the death grip he has on Roman’s bloody shirt. 

They’re left waiting outside, shivering with cold and something else while they wait for news. Logan is inside, working with a kind of fervor that shrouds the panic that sits heavy in his veins. He isn’t sure who has it worse.

Here is the truth that Logan hides from them, the kind will go on to haunt him in his nightmares for years: Virgil, one of the strongest men he has ever known, flat-lines three times on his table. Each time, it takes Logan longer and longer to restart his heart. Every second that crawls by feels like a thousand years, the idea of losing Virgil unimaginable. There are things Logan will never forget: the snap of a rib under his hands as he brings Virgil back, the arc that Virgil’s back makes as they shock him back to life.

Logan, in all his years as an emergency room doctor, has never prepared for this - for the possibility of seeing someone he loves more than life on a table in front of him, a scalpel and a life in his hands. 

Roman’s mind is stuck. Every time he closes his eyes, he can see it again, hear it again, feel it again - the sheer fear in Patton’s voice as he screamed for them, the smell of the blood that pooled around Virgil’s broken body, the shove from behind as Logan raced towards them. The few moments where he had to leave Patton, alone in the middle of the street, to get his motorcycle - those had been the worst, the feeling of Patton’s shaky fingers on his trouser leg something he’d never forget. Watching Virgil disappear behind hospital doors, Logan hot on his heels - that was where Roman stopped, where he froze. Beside him, Patton leaned into him and sobbed. Roman couldn’t muster enough energy to do more than rub Patton’s back.

Patton - he has a secret, something that weighs heavily in his chest even as heaving sobs pull themselves out of him with a ferocity that half-scares him. Because he remembers the moments before his front door opened, before the world had shocked itself into movement. He remembers Virgil’s face, pale in the headlights of the car that had knocked him over, the waver in his voice as he asked Patton to keep them safe, and the sudden weight in his arms as Virgil went limp. 

There are some things they’d do anything to forget. They’re the ones seared into their memory.

~*~

It’s the sound of rhythmic beeping that Virgil wakes up to. Behind it follows the dull throb of a headache, pulsing at his temples and the back of his head, and the strange, almost crusty, feeling of opening his eyes after a long sleep. Exhaustion lulls at him, the urge to go back to a fitful sleep whispering in his ears even as he forces his eyes to open. 

The stark whiteness of the hospital room surprises him and hurts his eyes; it’s with a hiss that he closes them, missing the vaguely blurry shape that’s slumped over to his right. When he opens them again, it’s with a lot more caution. This time, he catches sight of the figure on his right, the trademark light blue cardigan drawing his eyes. Patton’s hand scrunches his face in his sleep, glasses askew on his face. Virgil smiles fondly Behind them, Roman snores on a couch, Logan half in his lap in what looks like an exhaustion-fueled sleep. Tear streaks are caked on all their faces. 

Raising a hand (with an IV inserted, why can’t he remember what happened?), he cards it through Patton’s hair, the usually peppy man startling himself awake.  
“Virgil?”


End file.
